


All Better

by isonlyme



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Affection, Bad Cooking, Bickering, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gentle Kissing, Gentleness, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Reddie Fluff, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Tease, Sharing Clothes, Sleepy Cuddles, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Whump, aged up 17, big mom energy, insomniac eddie kaspbrak, they're boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 07:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30085695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isonlyme/pseuds/isonlyme
Summary: Eddie has a bad day and Richie does his best to cheer him up.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Reddie - Relationship
Comments: 3
Kudos: 59





	All Better

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! Needed more fluff and angst in my life so I hope you all get your overdose on cute when you read this!! Let me know what you think! Kudos and comments always appreciated <3

* * *

_“And even if I cry all over your body_  
 _You don’t really mind, say you_   
_Like your shirt soggy.”_

**_\- comfort crowd / conan gray_ **

* * *

_It’s just Richie’s front door._

_But no amount of convincing worked for Eddie’s mind as the sight of it warped into the small door in the sewer...With the grotesque face of the leper staring back at him. As he stared at the Tozier’s oak door he swore he saw a thick trickle of blood seep from the threshold and hear the sound of sickly, rasping breath from inside the hollow door. Just a few more moments and he’d be face to face with It.._

_It’s dark out,_ he told himself. _That’s why I’m seeing things. But I’m here, Richie’s here. I’m safe. No need to be scared._

But that didn’t stop the nightmares that assailed him all night long—ever since they defeated It—keeping Eddie wide awake and strangled in worry for what could be lurking in the murky blackness outside. Eddie’s mother had caught on to his insomnia since the first week, making him take all sorts of supplements and medicine claiming to be a “sleep aid.” _They did nothing to keep the images at bay. The noises._ He only slept well on nights when Richie snuck over, or when Eddie drove to his house. 

_Richie could never know._

Eddie shook his head and knocked again. His eyes searched the window with its drawn curtains _. I did tell him I’m coming, right?_

But then the lock swung back and the door opened, showing the face that soothed all his worries. Richie grabbed Eddie’s arm and brought him in for a hug. He was suddenly pulled into Richie’s open chest and the familiar stink of cigarettes and black tea consumed him. It was a bold and comforting smell, one that Eddie loved. It made his nerves settle and for Eddie was unmistakably _Richie Tozier_.

  
“You look like shit, Eds,” Richie held him tightly, “On the phone you said it was a bad day, right?” 

Eddie nodded against his shirt and they pulled away. _I’m not entirely wrong. It was a bad day. He just doesn’t need to know exactly why._ And that was the great thing about Richie: he didn’t need an explanation. He was more than happy to let his boyfriend curl up in his arms, his face still burning from fearful tears while Richie whispered little jokes or Voices in his ear until Eddie wiped his eyes and laughed. _Most of the time they weren’t even funny._

“That’s alright, Eds. I’ll fix us some dinner, yeah?” 

“You can cook?” Eddie followed Richie into the kitchen and sat on an island chair. 

Richie pouted at him, his lower lip sticking out. “Don’t be hateful, sweetheart. Of course the Trashmouth can _cook_.” 

“What’s on the menu then, Chef Tozier?” 

“You’ll see.” Richie laughed and rummaged through the pantry. 

Eddie glanced around the empty kitchen, not a single sound filled the house—except of course for Richie banging around looking for a stove pot. 

“No parents?"

"Nope. My folks are out of town for the weekend, some family thing.” Richie said, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand. 

“And they left you _alone_?” Eddie asked, unable to help the smile that drifted into his voice. 

“I’m _seventeen_. I don’t need constant supervision.” Richie growled. 

Eddie pointed to him. “Yet you were about to pour marinara sauce into a pasta strainer.” 

“Okay, scratch that. I’ll always need _you_ , Eddie my love...Plus I promised them I wouldn’t burn the house down.”

“What on Earth are you doing with all that?” Eddie caught sight of two boxes of macaroni, lettuce, and red sauce. 

He tried to stifle his giggling, but it was useless. “Rich, are you trying to make _spaghetti?”_

“Maybe.” He replied defiantly with an embarrassed blush.

“With _iceberg_ lettuce?” 

Richie inspected his ingredients again with his eyebrows raised, his eyes looked more doubtful now from beneath his glasses. “..That’s a thing, right?” 

Eddie sighed and joined him at the counter. “You’re hopeless, Richie. Give me that ladle,” He loosely gestured to the wooden spoon next to him while putting back the lettuce. 

“This is the wrong type of noodle.” Eddie held up the box of pasta while the marinara sauce simmered on the stove—the one thing Richie had done correctly.

Richie snorted and put his hands on his hips. “Not everything can be _perfect like you_.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes and let Richie’s arms snake around his waist. “Okay, fine. Macaroni it is.”

He waddled over to the sink—with Richie still attached from behind—to pour water into the pot. As he let the faucet run Richie bent down and kissed his bare neck softly, his glasses poking into his skin.

Eddie stiffened. “What was _that_ for?”

“For helping me with dinner. For being cute. Why, can’t I kiss you just because?” 

“Of course you can. You’re just.. _distracting_.” 

“Oh? You mean like this?” Richie laughed and placed a trail of teasing kisses up his neck, making Eddie grip the handles of the pot tighter while he fought to breathe. _He knows just where to kiss me._

“Am I _distracting_ you now?” His mouth rested just above the space between Eddie’s jaw and earlobe, his warm lips and breath tickling him. One of Richie’s hands drifted down toward his pants and Eddie stepped on his bare foot. 

“Cut it out Richie,” Eddie gasped. He realized in his daze that the pot of water was about to overflow and quickly shut it off. He carried it to the stove and set it to boil, then poured in the macaroni noodles.

He turned to him. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days.” 

Richie returned his hands to his sides and smirked. “Awe, shucks. To think I have that effect on people.”

“Only me, dipshit.” 

“And that’s just fine,” Richie pecked his cheek and hugged him again. 

“Feeling any better, Eds?” 

“After some dinner I will be.” Eddie replied while wrestling out of the bear hug to set two plates on the tile counter. Richie drained the pasta and Eddie turned off the burners.

_“Like mother, like son.”_ Richie said philosophically at the sink _._

“Be quiet,” Eddie gave his chest a playful shove and handed him the food. They sat at the table on opposite sides, and just as he was about to eat Richie stuck his fork at him. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Letting you try some!” Richie pushed the fork further towards Eddie’s mouth.

“I have some _right_ here,” He gestured to his own full plate, “And you’ve been eating off that already.”

Before he could pull his fork away a few stray pieces of macaroni slipped off the fork and fell across Eddie’s shirt, staining the front with oily red sauce. Richie’s eyes widened, and he drew the fork back guiltily. 

“Gross!”

“Oh, _shit_. Sorry Eddie! I’ll go get one of mine!” He hopped off the chair and dashed up the stairs. Eddie took the chance to eat some of the “spaghetti” before Richie returned with a fresh shirt.

“I am _not_ wearing that,” Eddie said firmly, picking the noodles off his lap and into his empty plate. 

“Just take that off and put on mine. It’s mostly clean, don’t worry. I’ll wash yours.” Richie held his shirt out to him, waiting with closed eyes for the dirty one. Eddie diverted his eyes and pulled his shirt up over his head. He threw Richie’s on hurriedly, his face was red the whole time. _God, it smells just like him._

“Okay, you’re good.” Eddie told him and he opened his eyes. Richie examined him wearing his own clothes then flashed a grin. 

_“Why do my clothes look better on you? And the Cutie Award goes to..”_

Eddie thrust the stained shirt at him. “My ass.” 

“He’s not wrong, folks!” Richie shouted into the empty hallway as he went back upstairs to the laundry room.

“You want me to clean this up?” Eddie called. Richie had left a trail of dirty dishes and stray pasta noodles in his wake as they had cooked, not caring to pick up. 

_“Just come up here! We’ll do it later.”_ came his reply. By “ _later_ ,” Eddie knew he meant “ _tomorrow_.” 

Eddie headed up the stairs and sat on Richie’s bed, waiting for him. Even without him there—just for a few seconds—the thoughts came racing back, like a flip of a switch, no matter if things were happy and easygoing minutes before. 

He was no longer in Richie’s room. _He was on the burning asphalt with a broken arm, he was running through the yard of the Neibolt house, desperate and out of breath. He was staring directly in the face of Henry Bowers, his entire arm engulfed in flames as searing as a hot iron with Patrick’s spit stuck in his eyes. He was reliving every memory._

“..Eds? _What is it?_ What happened?” Richie appeared in the doorway but Eddie could hardly see him through the haze; he only heard his footsteps thundering in his head as he came to his side, taking his face and forcing him to look into his chocolate brown eyes. 

“Eddie? Talk to me, _please_ ,” Richie was pleading, sitting down next to Eddie and keeping his hands placed firmly on his shoulders, helping to relieve his staggered breathing. 

“It _hurts_ ,” Eddie said weakly but his words got choked up in a fresh wave of tears. 

“Where, baby? _Where does it hurt?”_ He searched his face and scanned his body frantically. 

“God, Richie. My _head..the memories_ , it hurts so much. _They never went away_ ,” He cried, truly feeling every ounce of that childhood pain. Richie grabbed his sides and pulled him into his lap, his face set into a hard, serious frown that left Eddie startled. 

_He’s always been there for me._

_“_ N-no,” Eddie tried moving away, “I’ve been crying..It’s gross, Rich. Let me go wash my face or something.” He sniffed loudly. 

“ _Shhh_ ,” Richie shook his head and held him more fiercely, Eddie could feel the beating of their hearts together against his chest. He closed his eyes and counted each rhythmic _thump_ of Richie’s heartbeat until he could breathe again. 

He brought his face to Eddie’s cheek, wet with tears, and kissed him.

“Let me make it better,” Richie whispered. He moved his lips to tenderly kiss every spot on Eddie’s face: each tear, his pink nose, his eyelids. 

_“It’s gone, we killed It, everything’s alright now,”_ He kept his lips pressed to Eddie’s temple, and as he did the ache there subsided, _“You’re safe with me, Eds.”_

Eddie let out a shaky laugh. “You’re such a sap, Richie.” 

“Only for you.” 

They sat in silence for a few minutes with Richie running his hands through Eddie’s hair. He loved when Richie did this, when his gentle fingers sent shivers down his spine. His comforting touch made different tears slide down Eddie’s face.

“Is it still there? Did the nightmares go away?” Richie asked with another twinge of concern when he felt Eddie crying quietly again into his shoulder. 

Eddie tucked his face into the crook of his neck to hide the embarrassment and mumbled, “No, they w-went away.” 

“What’s wrong? Why are you still crying, Eddie?” Richie leaned against the headboard so he could see the smaller boy’s face and he cradled the back of his hair.

“I’ve never had someone be so.. _kind_ to me before. Not like this. No one would ever do the things you’re always doing for me. I-I don’t think I deserve it.” 

Richie lifted Eddie’s legs up higher so he was more comfortable and the smaller boy snuggled in. He spoke with his chin resting on top of his head, “I know I’m kind of an ass most of the time, but I don’t mean to be. I’m _always_ looking out for you Eds, even when you think I’m not... _It’s cause I love you.”_

Those three words silenced everything and left Eddie blissfully calm—despite his frantic heart. 

_He loves me?_

Eddie questioned it as soon as he said it, but after thinking it over he knew Richie wasn’t lying. 

_Who else would clean me up after a panic attack, or wake me from a nightmare, even if I was covered in sweat and tears and who knows what else? Who else would hold me the rest of the night, even if it meant he didn’t sleep?_

“I love you too,” Eddie said against his neck. And then, after a thoughtful pause,

_“But don’t call me Eds.”_


End file.
